


system

by network



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: AU, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin never falls, Bounty Hunter!Anakin, Gen, Post-Order 66
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/network/pseuds/network
Summary: It’s been five years since the purges, yet being back on Coruscant still terrifies Kanan. Regardless, he has a mission to do, and Ahsoka’s instructions were very clear;Find the bounty hunter System, and bring him to the Rebellion.
Relationships: Padme Amidala/Anakin Skywalker (past)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 94





	1. i'll come up (when i'm summoned)

**Author's Note:**

> if anybody was hanging around here in like '17/18, this is a rewrite of a fic i've started many times  
> hopefully this time it'll actually go somewhere
> 
> also here's a super messy drawing of System if you care to look: https://network-failure.tumblr.com/post/619000487222591488/
> 
> also x2: the Ghost crew are aged up to their ages at the start of Rebels because otherwise Ezra would be 5 lmao, Ahsoka is still p tiny though.

System starts awake, heaving in his tangled sheets, the taste of blood in his throat.

He doesn’t bother checking his chronometer. He knows what day it is.

Really, it’s just another day down here. Nobody in the Coruscanti underworld celebrates Empire Day – most people here couldn’t care less about who is in charge, and those that do aren’t imps, not down here. While he can picture the false celebrations that will happen above when the sun rises, for System it’s a day of mourning. Five years ago – five years ago he’d lost it all.

He finds himself sobbing before he realises, unable to hide from his thoughts despite his best efforts. They call to him – all the voices of people he’d failed, of the Jedi that had died because he hadn’t noticed the signs earlier, because he hadn’t thought Palpatine of being capable of what he was implying. Sure, he’s saved a handful of younglings, but it is never enough for the voices. He could’ve saved them all – not just some children that will now live in fear for the rest of their lives, confined to a dingy apartment in the underworld when they can be so much more.

On nights like these, he hears his mother’s voice, his first failure. _“Why did you let me die, Ani?”_. She always says, in her beautiful, calm voice. There’s never venom there, no hatred, just a single, heart-wrenching question. Then the air shifts, and he hears the cries of his wife, calling out his name, over and over. He’d failed her too – the Empire had found them; he hadn’t protected her enough. She died in his arms, just like his mother had.

He can’t stop his tears until he hears the soft pitter patter of his children’s feet, as they look up at their father with sad little faces. With a grieving smile he hoists them up onto the bed, sings them melodies in a shaky voice until they drift off. He returns them to their room, carefully tucking them into their small bed till he’s sure they’re comfortable, before leaving to return to his own, ready to spend another long morning waiting for the sun to rise, when his holo starts to ring. System sets his mask over his face and accepts the call.

A blue bust appears, the dark cloak obscuring any distinguishable features; a norm for System's clients.

"You are the bounty hunter they call System, correct?" The voice has an air of authority but it isn't difficult for him to feel their apprehension. This interests System immediately - he isn't used to people being afraid of him - perhaps if they knew his real identity - but not as a faceless bounty hunter.

His artificially deepened voice mutters an affirmative response, before questioning the caller on what exactly they need - nobody calls him without needing something, whether it be an item stolen or a person assassinated. His line of work pushes him dangerously close to the dark side, especially for someone so precariously trying to balance the two sides within, but it's not like he has a choice. He needs the credits, and so do his charges, perhaps even more than him. With the money he earns he can move them closer and closer to the surface - not too close mind you; low enough to not be recognized, but high enough to have some feeling of security.

"This connection is not secure enough." Is their simple reply, not out of the norm - many of his clients, especially high-profile ones, will meet him in person to discuss details without any prying ears intercepting incriminating messages. The client tells him the time and place before stopping the connection.

Running over the details in his mind, System remembers a bar, not far from his apartment, that the person apparently wants to meet at. It's slightly disturbing how easily he runs over the path to it in his head; in the first month or two after the purges he'd visited it a lot, drinking away the memories of their deaths, all the deaths, the emptiness of the force from the deaths but also the screams cut too short and left too long ringing out in the force.

Those weeks were the hardest, when he blamed himself for every blaster bolt and youngling not saved by another like him, when he blamed himself for not paying more heed to what happened to Fives, when he blamed himself for not doing what was impossible; what he knew was impossible but tried to do anyway.

When he'd accepted that he couldn't save them all was when he found what he could do; he had a handful of younglings following him; a new generation of Jedi to fix what the old had failed to. And he had his children; two beautiful babies, full of joy and bent on bringing it; two beacons of light in the Force, shining and lighting up the darkest times. Tears well up in his eyes and he blinks them away. "Back to the job." He chides himself mentally. "Think later, fight now."

It doesn’t take him long to dress, despite how many layers make up his armour. Underlayers, coarse trousers, worn-in boots and a stiff black trench-coat are bound with light armour, pauldrons and knee-guards and the likes. Bulky gloves conceal his hands, and the hood of a short cloak is pulled over his masked head.

He hides his lightsaber in the folds of his coat, and leaves his room.

Walking silently through the dated hallway until he reaches the living room, he tucks pistols into the holsters at his side, and by the time he’s in the small kitchen/living room he’s ready to leave. He then takes a book on the different lightsaber forms and opens it to page twenty-three, leaving it face down on the kitchen counter, a simple way of telling the kids that he's going out, so they don't have to worry about his whereabouts when they start to awaken.

He pauses by the front door, letting the self-imposed mental walls cutting him off from the force drop for a moment to allow him to scan the apartment for any potential danger. Satisfied that his charges are relatively safe, he stumbles slightly as he cuts his connection with the force and grimaces.

Leaving the apartment, he follows his mental map down to the bar, easily dodging the vendors as they aggressively market their goods, pulling himself into focus as he reaches the entrance. He physically recoils – just a bit - when he enters the room, senses briefly overloaded before adjusting to the too loud music, too many perfumes, too many people, too many lights, too much everything. He avoids the crowded areas, before his eyes settle on a black-cloaked person - human, or extremely humanoid; he sees no sign of any lekku or montrals - sprawled across a booth sofa in an almost cocky fashion. Another figure sits beside him, once again wrapped and hooded in a dark material, legs pulled up to their chest and tanned chin resting on his knees.

The larger figure looks up as soon as System lays eyes on them, and that's a good enough indication to him that this is his client. He heads over, sliding in across the table and leaning back into the other booth sofa. The older person begins to speak as the younger looks up, deep blue eyes piercing into his.

"I'm Kanan Jarrus, and this" he nods towards the younger figure "is Ezra Bridger. We’re with the Rebellion, and we need your help, _System_.”


	2. you can walk the path (among the lines)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a whole age, lockdown has been fucking with my time perception haha  
> i'm not the proudest of this one so expect a rewrite
> 
> song rec - potions (deliverance mix) - puscifer

System watches them carefully, searching for any clear signs of deceit in what little he can see of them. Finding nothing, he leans back in the booth and tilts his head to the side.

“Pretty bold move, coming to the heart of the Empire then announcing yourself as Rebels.” He comments, almost off-handedly, trying to gather what exactly it is they need from him. The smaller one shifts, like they want to say something, but the elder signals for them to remain silent.

“Ahsoka sent us.”

It takes everything in him not to jump at that name. While his mind screams at him – _she’s alive, she’s alive, I didn’t fail her, she’s ali-_ \- he tries his best to remain as outwardly calm as he can. “And for what?” He replies, clamping down on his emotions and attempting to appear uninterested.

The younger rebel gives up on his silence. “Fighting the Empire! Ahsoka said you could help us, that you were the best warrior she knew!”

System pauses, then sighs, the sound heavily distorted by his mask. “Listen, kid. I wish I could. But I.. I have bigger issues than the imps right now.”

“What could be more important than the _Galactic Empire?_ ”

“Surviving!” He snaps, then instantly regrets it. Standing to leave, he continues. “Look- your heart is in the right place kid, but sometimes – sometimes the best you can do is make it to another day.”

The elder holds a small card, presumably with contact details, out to him as he passes. “If you change your mind, let us know.” A pause, then, “We’ll be on planet till the end of this week.”

He has no intention of contacting them, but takes it regardless. Nodding to them, he worries the card between his gloved fingers, before speaking up. “Give Ahsoka my regards-“ There’s far more he wants to say, but can’t, not here at least. Another pause, and he continues. “And good luck. May the Force be with you.”

\--

It only takes him another night plagued with screams to reconsider his decision.

He fiddles with the card he was given, watching detachedly as he thinks his options over. Yes, he has a duty to his charges, to keep them away from any additional danger, but at the same time- at the same time he has a duty to the Jedi, to the scraps of the Republic, to all he abandoned the moment the Force started going dark.

Pausing, he turns to stare out the window showing the busy streets below, before taking a deep, bracing breath, releasing it and staring down at the card held between his fingers instead.

All it holds is:

⊘

196.78.4.62:5

With bated breath he slips on his mask and enters the code into his comm, hands trembling as it _rings, rings, rings_ -

then it connects.

“I’m glad you reconsidered.” The elder rebel starts, and System finds himself unable to speak, throat clamming up with how critical his next words will be.

Instead, he simply replies-

“Unit-872, Building-12, Block-A904B. Don’t come any earlier than 0900H. And expect more than just myself.”

He can feel the rebel’s slight bewilderment at his directness for a moment, before they compose themselves. “We’ll be there at 1000.”

The call cuts off, and he huffs, already on his feet to start preparing.

\--

System sighs to himself as he oversees the hurried movements of his charges as they quickly pack their things.

He’d gathered them in the dingy living area at 0700 – all eight younglings he’d managed to save during the purges, plus his own Luke and Leia - and told them the news. That they’re joining the fledging rebellion, and that everybody needs to pack what they can, and quickly, and to not refer to him as _Skywalker_ around the people they’d be meeting, not even _master_ , and to-.

He’s getting ahead of himself.

His children cling fearfully to his legs as he surveys the few small rooms of the apartment, making sure that anything they need to take with them is stored in the packs and bags the rest of the younglings grip in their tiny hands. He’d called up the building’s front desk earlier, got them out of the lease. There’s nothing left tying them here.

Except –

There’s a knock at the front door.

Luke and Leia scamper back off into the group as he goes to answer. With one last look behind him to confirm that all the children are out of sight he opens the door, to the two rebels from before.

“Are you ready to leave?” They ask, slightly gruffly. With a nod System turns and leads them further into the apartment – into the common room, where his charges are slowly emerging from their various hiding spots.

“ _Woah_ -“ the younger rebel murmurs, turning to their companion, who appears strangely hesitant. “Kanan? Who are they?”

“Younglings.” They state firmly, seemingly studying System from where he leans casually against a doorframe. “ _Jedi_ younglings.”

Before they have a chance to ask any questions – questions that he honestly doesn’t have many answers to – he speaks up. “We’re ready to leave – if you are, of course.”

That snaps them out of their moment. “Yea- yeah. If you’ll follow me-.”


End file.
